


Returns

by betterrecieved



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:06:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betterrecieved/pseuds/betterrecieved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slight angst.  Just fluff. Unbeta'd</p>
            </blockquote>





	Returns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [venomedveins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomedveins/gifts).



When they are alone together, Nasir turns kittenish, cuts his eyes, raises brow, swings his slim hips, making slow sinuous show of walking into Agron’s arms. 

Yet there is something so transparently needy under surface of Nasir’s practiced seduction that Agron’s stomach tightens with sharp flashing white-cold fear:

Nasir is so youthful and trusting that he is almost too young for this life. 

Panic of regret seizes Agron then, panic of bargaining with scorned useless gods for Nasir’s life.

Agron must more than stab and gore and smash his way to vengeance in battle, he must win this war to free Nasir completely.

*

In first frantic blushing months of new love, Nasir frets over his once-fair face, now tanned as farmer’s and often streaked with sweat and dust of battle.

His boy displays hard-earned brand upon his flank with pride of apprentice gladiator, yet fears new tear-shaped scar upon his cheek more than Roman sword through his belly. 

"Venus herself pales beside your beauty, Nasir," Agron reassures. Nasir’s slender body is slotted into curve of Agron’s shoulder, while Agron’s arms cage him in, hoard this skin-to-skin closeness like gold. 

"Scar upon your skin means nothing to me, for I glimpse only my heart when my eyes fall upon you." Fervor of ten thousand suns infuses Agron’s vow, soft gauze-veiled moonlight of Nasir’s beauty eclipsing whole blood-stained world, and Agron stands hulking, useless in his skin, in awe of this small gleaming man-boy before him.

Nasir stands looking up at him, pretty, pouting, doubting. He is becoming true warrior, grows stronger each day, but delicatus in him wars with his blossoming muscle and sharpening fighting skill. “Your eyes first fell upon me when my face was yet unmarked…”

Agron cups Nasir’s frowning face in his hands. Nasir must know that Agron’s eyes only follow his heart, and his heart is Nasir. “You are more beautiful still than when first I laid eyes upon you.” He bends to Nasir’s quivering face, traces with his finger tiny trail of tears etched on ruddy skin under Nasir’s eye like fading water stain on porcelain.

"One day I shall grow older, and I will no longer be your boy, and you will-" 

But Agron will not have those ugly words escape that lovely mouth, and swallows them up whole, takes them into himself and replaces doubt with his bullying tongue.

Nasir falls into him liquid as stream flowing downhill; eager as starving man. “Yours,” he breathes.

*

While rebel force swells and Rome is slow to respond, in busy hopeful days at Vesuvius, most choice of looted Roman spoils is sure to find its way to Nasir. 

Agron’s most prized, his nightly pleasured treasure beyond measure, his sweet drop in bitterness that is life. His beautiful boy who glows with pleasure at every gift Agron gives him, be it crystal comb for glossy locks or Agron’s leaking cock fed slowly down his throat.

If he cannot give Nasir peace, then he will give him what he can, while he can.

Nasir drapes fine woven fabric over silken skin, uses slips of dainty ribbon to tie back long sweet-smelling locks of shining hair, makes Agron wait for needed weight pressed close against his chest as he applies potions and lotions, skin still soft as down, though his face is no longer pale from years spent secreted away in villa.

Agron catches mens’ head turning to watch Nasir (Short little wrapped skirt of bright patterned fabric sliding down slim hips, legs curvaceous and smooth, ass firm and small and long dark curling hair cascading onto narrow shoulders as he thrusts and jabs and dodges, as nimble now with sword and shield and dagger as he is with kohl and promise of pleasure as he arches his back, straining to take Agron into him.), senses hungry stares as if they bored into his own skin, feels his chest prickle with light pinpoints of heat.

But there is no flint to spark pride into jealousy; no covetous hands dare reach for Nasir, no serious interloper threatens to transform Agron’s benignly watchful gaze into tunnel of flaring crimson violence - only pride and satisfaction, for other men look at him admiringly when they see his boy smile up at him.

Agron returns from raids upon Roman villas bearing honey-coated figs to fill that big moist mouth, decadent treat from former days as well-fed house slave, and Agron does not have heart to tell Nasir such indulgences will soon enough run short.

Nasir gives it right back to him, makes a treat of how he eats, sucks in Agron’s long fingers, cleans them of melted honey coating, hollows his cheeks, fat bottom lip moist with honey dripping from his big wet tongue. Bats those long thick lashes to make shadows on angles of his face, smiles with his mouth full, husks in his soft sweet voice, “Do you desire taste of my honey, Agron?”

What Nasir starts, Agron can only helplessly finish, pulling smaller body close, nuzzling biting grasping while Nasir’s smile drops, apple of his throat bobbing, legs trembling open for Agron’s hurriedly slicked fingers. 

"Mine," Agron growls, more beast than man when Nasir inflames him to height of passion. "Say you are mine.”

"Yours," Nasir sighs. His body falls limp, all of his weight slumped into Agro’s arms. He is light as feather, maddeningly light, and Agron pulls smaller body to his, desperate for press of Nasir’s warm soft skin to his own, for substantial feel of warmth suffusing him. 

Nasir’s hands stroke aimlessly along bulk of Agron’s arms, his chest, his neck thick as a bull’s from years of heavy training. 

When Agron lifts him from his feet, Nasir’s legs instantly wrap around Agron’s waist.

(“You will be only man who has ever had me,” Nasir whispered in their bed at Vesuvius temple, when they paused from kissing, from stroking and squeezing, to take in much-needed breaths. “Only man who ever will.”

"It is your first time?" Agron stilled his hands, recalled Nasir’s trembling hand stroking his body, boldly squeezing his cock through his subligar. He should have gone gentler, slower, he should not have-

"No," Nasir made attempt to smile but strained expression did not reach big eyes glowing up at Agron. "He took me once, when I was only - when first he purchased me from market. But I will be all yours after tonight."

When Nasir whined and cried through shocking hurt of being taken by big cock from East of Rhine, Agron kissed tears from crumpled visage, shushed and coddled and waited, ready to pull out, hating to pull out, half-guilty, fully hard, quivering all over from strain of holding still. “You are mine now,” he soothed. “Do you feel Agron inside you? Only man who has ever had you. It is all for me. All for Agron. Mine.”

And all around him tight choking glove of Nasir’s channel began to relax.)

Agron lines his leaking, reddened cock-head up with Nasir’s tight grasping hole.

Nasir whimpers, arms tightening around Agron’s neck. “I am yours. Agron. I am yours.” 

*

One day Agron has nothing at all to give his gorgeous faithful boy. He has not burnt Rome to cinders. He possesses no cache of denarii, no jewels to barter with and ease their way. 

But Nasir squeezes Agron’s useless hand tight and pulls, all of his weight behind his insistent tugging, while Agron glances back toward barely scathed Rome, tamping down familiar panic. 

When Agron does move his battered war-ravaged bones, he is stunned to find himself walking alongside Nasir down steep mountain path, freedom opening up to him wider with each weary step. 

It has never once occurred to him, not until this moment, to want this for himself.

“Yours,” Nasir breathes.


End file.
